Last Saturday I went to a 5-year-old’s birthday “party”. It was the second kid’s birthday I went to in a span of few weeks. Kinda makes me feel quite old. You look around and all your friends are already sending their kids to school, college etc and here I am, playing the good ‘ol uncle Kim, bachelor and loving it.
The thing about such children parties is that… you hate it, but you have to go because of your friend.
Some time ago, my friend Michael-the-pilot celebrated his son’s birthday. It was quite fun, as there were a lot of singles in that party.
And of course the birthday cake had to be in the shape of an aeroplane, so that Michael may one day see his son grow up to be like him. After all, that’s what most fathers want their sons to be, right? To be just like them. I pity Neil Armstrong’s son back in the 70s
And the best part of that birthday party? When us men became boys!
We spent that entire night playing with all the birthday presents. After the party, most of the people left, except for our close circle of friends. And after opening all the presents which were mostly remote-controlled toy cars, we actually raced with each other etc around the house. All the women and wives sighed, but we didn’t care! Michael himself was the most excited (!) and we eventually christened that night as Michael’s birthday, not his son’s. I went home around 5 in the morning, fingers aching badly from all the racing and trying to out-do each other with “stunts”. Hihihi.But of course that was not the end of my journey across kid parties. In fact it’s just beginning, I believe.
Last Saturday was Perween and Samit’s son Faham’s 5th birthday. And so there we were, our entire gang, at the function with gifts in our hands that Faham will never remember for the rest of his life that it was us who gave him those gifts.
Some of you may know who little Faham is. Go to Google. Click on image search and type: “Manori beach” and hit enter. The first image that you see of a young child on the first page result, yeah, that is little Faham.
[ Source: illusionaire: Chp 77. Manori Beach ]
This birthday party was more “matured” and organized. A professional MC and DJ were even hired and they really played their role well. The MC took all the kids through various games while involving the moms now and then.
That’s Faham with Perween above, about to take part in one of the games. Perween as usual challenged the MC’s authority and changed a couple of rules as the game proceeded. After all, we don’t call her MONICA for nothing.
Yeah, our gang just loves playing various games like Dumb Charades and Pictionary. When we hang out on one of those slow lazy Mumbai Sunday afternoons for a pot lunch (where everyone brings one particular dish and we put them all together and hog) we always play a game or two, divided into two teams. Perween and my sister are ALWAYS on the opposite team that I am in, and OUR TEAM ALWAYS WINS! Wooohooo.
And Monica, I mean Perween, will always try to change the rules of the game or disallow us from doing certain things. And just like in the sit-com Friends, we have to be cautious if she’s holding a plate or glass while trying to make a statement.
Some of us that day:
And here is one brief look at one of the games that involved both the kids and mummies:
The one closest to the camera frame is Faham’s granny Chesty-aunty
the most fun and bubbly grandma I’ve ever known! She’s always on my team, the winning team, and she is wickedly badass. The two of us can kick anyone’s ass in Dumb C or Pictionary.Also met Mohit, a batchmate of mine from B-School, who married L who was a part of our gang. Small world indeed.
There are loads of other photos from that birthday party, where all the kids had an amazing time playing various games and we adults had a great time watching them. But as I’ve been told, it is unethical to put up photographs of children whose parents I don’t know or without taking permission first. So I guess these three photographs shall suffice.
50% of the time I was next to the chaat-wala, having unlimited puchka and other chaats, followed by a badam or pista kulfi. I hardly touched the other scrumptious snacks available.
All in all, those two birthday parties were two memorable experiences. Something that most single adults dread going to, and at the same time enjoy the party. We belong to a very complicated breed of people, and I guess marriage may let me see this whole business of children’s parties in a completely different light. Until then, this is me signing out.
